


My clock gets crazy (Around you)

by Twot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe- Timers, Department of Mysteries, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Love/Hate, Post-War, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:41:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26724592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twot/pseuds/Twot
Summary: Fleur's time was running low. There was only one year left in her timer. Tired and angry for her awful luck Fleur craves to make a difference in this world before she is forced to leave it.Her day was already terrible when she met a familiar brunette that always made her rage boil inside her. However, even the worst days can hold a speck of hope..orTimers existed since magic existed and they predicted the maximum life expectancy of a magical being. The timer sets off when the magical being is born and it counts down the seconds until the terrifying moment it zeroes. When the timer shows zero death is inevitable and it comes with very creative ways to those who try to evade it. Of course, a magical being could die earlier than the time that his clock indicated but it could never-ever surpass its life expectancy.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger
Comments: 38
Kudos: 101





	1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Fleur Delacour was generally a closed-off, cold person. This is at least how the society conceived her presence; her haughty, stiff posture, her expressionless eyes, and her infallible poker face made her unapproachable to others. Some would say that her golden locks and her crystal blue eyes would smooth her socialization, but seclusion and privacy were the main intent behind her behavior.

Even though the blonde had masterfully accomplished the art of hiding her intents and her feelings there was one particular emotional state that would always show on her face. Fleur Delacour lived her anger; her eyes burned like thousands of pyres, boiling whole seas in her rage. The tension of her facial muscles and her inability to logical thinking was soon followed.

Reaching the breaking point of her patience, Fleur could feel primitive instincts consuming her, while rage burned her inside out. These moments her veela heritage was more present than ever. Alas to the poor victims that would witness her at this state.

Right now, the blonde was just a breath away before her creature origins took over and she snapped at someone for all the misfortunes that she had suffered in this life.

Part of her rage stemmed from the French Ministry's bureaucracy and ritualism that decided she was unqualified (due to her young age) for an Inventor’s license so her research could finally be independent and acknowledged. Fleur left her chief’s office full of frustration and anger, with a less-than-persuasive promise to consider accepting another assignment. But that was yesterday.

Today, she returned to her office, packed her stuff, and without a second word she was headed towards the elevator; her flight to New York was leaving in a couple of hours. _She did not have much time._

_She did not have much time; That sentence described accurately her whole life._

However, Lady Luck rarely was by her side, as a result, she was trapped in the elevator for the last thirty minutes with no prospect of getting out soon. There was a chance that she would be able to keep her temper in line if that was all the emotional baggage she had to handle, but the problem was so much deeper; Fleur Delacour had to handle 23 years' worth of emotional burdens. The quarter-veela was one of the few people born with less than 25 years in her timer. _24 years, 134 days, 4 hours twenty-three minutes and eight to be exact._

Timers existed since magic existed and they predicted the maximum life expectancy of a magical being. The timer sets off when the magical being is born and it counts down the seconds until the terrifying moment it zeroes. When the timer shows zero death is inevitable and it comes with very creative ways to those who try to evade it. Of course, a magical being could die earlier than the time that his clock indicated but it could _never-ever_ surpass its life expectancy.

Researches proved that only one in 100 thousand had a life expectancy as short as hers. Through the years her rage and bitterness boiled inside her, slowly constructing her cold exterior. The people that learned about her predicament either looked at her with pity or they dismissed her presence as someone not worth the effort. Hell, even the relationship with her family was somewhat estranged due to her low life expectancy. Her parents wanted to love her unconditionally and fiercely and they did for the first years of her life, but since she became a teenager they started looking at her differently- like she would disappear at any moment. And slowly, but steadily they pulled away.

There were days that Fleur wanted to laugh hysterically at the fact that her life was defined by _a fucking clock._

Nevertheless, what made her anger peak today wasn’t any of the above. Her frustration was escalated by a _person_ ; a certain someone that was trapped with her in the elevator.

A wild-maned, slim brunette was sitting on the elevator floor, slumped against a wall. Her eyes were closed as she carelessly mumbled a song with such a serenity that could only be possessed by an owner of a _very-very_ rich timer.

The Gryffindor always got in Fleur’s nerves, even though she had never talked to her. When she arrived at Hogwarts, in hopes that winning the Triwizard Tournament would be enough to leave her mark in this world, she systematically observed the infamous Hermione Granger.

Fleur was always infuriated by the way the brunette carried herself; the brightest witch of her age would always take her time at doing things,-she completed her tasks slowly and diligently, always offering her help to underclassmen or her friends, advocating for causes that were a complete waste of time. The brunette had always her nose stuck in a book, procrastinating to appreciate the true wonders of life.

The blonde hated the Gryffindor for her ability to do all these things without caring about her time running low. Because, even though you can’t see another being’s timer, such an ungrateful attitude towards the value of time could only be possessed by someone that always had it in abundance. 

Even though she held a certain amount of respect for the veteran due to her important role at the Second Wizard War, it wasn’t enough to tame her wild, blind anger that threatened to take over her, pushing her to accuse the brunette of all her misfortunes.

Granger continued to rhythmically bob her head tiredly at the sound of a silent music. The blonde already was in a bad mood and that was the cherry over the top. She clenched her fists and paced around, not being able to stabilize herself in one position since her life was in a state of constant rush.

“You are always moving. Even years ago when I first met you, you always moved. Why don’t you stay still and simply enjoy the serenity of a moment?” The brunette talked to her for the first time.

Fleur pressed her lips in a thin line, trying not to snap at the brunette who was mostly innocent. Her knuckles had become white from the force she clenched her hands and her nails scratched her skin until it bled.

The blonde couldn’t keep the scowl off her face as she replied “Movement benefits the body”

The brunette hummed as if agreeing “And the mind benefits from stillness. It’s all about finding the calm in the chaos” she commented.

Fleur huffed. The way the Gryffindor talked to her seemed more than patronizing. (It wasn’t)

Her eyes traced the brunette’s figure. Granger had her head down, while her fingers tapped rhythmically her lap. Her form was lanky but slouched. Her hair resembled a bird’s nest, or a living organism moving in every direction at will. Her clothes looked crumpled and somewhat but surely not appropriate for the professional environment of the Ministry.

Someone could describe her as beautiful, not classically beautiful, but in her unique way. And Fleur had to admit that the girl was somewhat charming – in a way a sick man or an elder is charming, having given up the fight. The brunette possessed the entrancement of the defeated.

Fleur turned around to snap at the brunette. “Look I don’t have time for this!” she shouted exasperated. “My flight is leaving in less than two hours! I don’t have time for your-“ the blonde stopped midsentence as she caught a glimpse of her timer.

The quarter-veela stared dumbly at her timer. She watched fascinated as her timer was counting down the seconds with the same accuracy it always did. With only one difference. A tiny detail that changed the ax of her world. Her timer was currently sixty years ‘richer’. _That couldn’t be right._ The last time she clacked her timer-this morning- her timer showed approximately 1 year and 55 days.

Fleur watched dumbstruck the clock, unable to find her voice or organize her thoughts. She was so absorbed in her drama that she didn’t even realize that her wishes were fluffed and the mechanics finally fixed the elevator. The quarter veela didn’t even realize that the other girl had already made her swift escape.

Only when tragically the time in her clock showed again the familiar “1 year and 55 days” Fleur realized the brunette’s absence.

The blonde’s thoughts were overdrive. It was never been documented such a happening. She knew because she had scoured every book available on the topic trying to find a way out of her awful predicament. The quarter-veela closed her eyes and tried to think what could possibly bring such a change. _Her habits were all the same. She felt the same_. She had decided to embark on a crazy adventure to live as she wanted the last moments of her life to be note-worthy. She had… She had…

Fleur was hyperventilating trying to summon all her cognitive skills. The blonde almost snorted, realizing that the brunette’s words were after all prophetic. _It’s all about finding the calm in the chaos._

The blonde’s eyes snapped open. The brunette…

Fleur’s eyes searched anxiously for the brunette only to realize that she wasn’t there. The veela practically stumbled out of the elevator looking frantically around for messy brown hair. She didn’t find any. The brunette was disappeared.

With the tail between her legs, the blonde left the ministry. The cold wind caressed her face and Fleur breathed in the winter scents. _Was she hallucinating?_ She wondered.

_No, no she had checked so many times. Could her mind play her such a cruel game?_

Fleur gulped. _Did Hermione Granger manage to somehow change her timer?_

The blonde snorted at the thought. What games did Lady Luck play? Would the girl that she distasted for so long be her savior? And how the hell would she find the elusive Gryffindor again to test her theory?

Anyways, the moral of the story is that Fleur is in deep trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

Fleur didn’t sleep that night. The blonde stared questioningly the ceiling trying to make a sense of the situation. _What happened back there?_ All Fleur could remember was a mop of brown hair and a serene expression that got on her nerves.

The quarter veela wanted to scream in confusion and exasperation. She had gone over _the incident-_ this is how she referred to whatever heppened at the elavator-more than ten times and she was still unable to pinpoint something weird in the brunette’s behavior that could have indicated that she was aware of the impact she had on her. Fleur was almost sure that Granger was completely obvious to her situation and whatever happened back there was unintentional.

The thought only that the Gryffindor was probably sleeping soundly while Fleur was questioning her whole life made her dislike the brunette a little more. Even worst, Fleur knew that she would not get any external help whatsoever; her situation was theoretically an impossibility and probably no-one would believe what happened to her without some solid proof. Besides, even if she could prove her claims, the blonde had no doubt in her mind that the French Department of Mysteries should have no qualms about making her their new experiment.

The magical world craved for centuries to unravel the mysteries of timers and defeat death, so Fleur was sure that should the chance arised lot of people would turn her into a guinea pig without scruples.

No, Fleur stood alone in this new challenge. The blonde stood up from her bed and headed to the bathroom. The veela stared at the mirror so intently as if her reflection held all the answers to universe’s mysteries. The moonlight caressed her features making her eyes look even more ethereal while her blonde hair obtained a supernatural glow, as if it was enjoying the moon’s attention.

The blonde gripped the stall so tightly that her knuckles became white from the pressure- she gripped it so tightly as if it was the only anchor in this world. _Unfortunately it wasn’t her only anchor._ Fleur thought sarcastically, thinking a certain brunette that stumbled into her life and shattered her equilibrium.

The young woman closed her eyes trying to collect her thoughts. Fleur was hyper-aware of the airport ticket sitting tauntingly in her night table. Yesterday, after losing her flight searching vainly for brown tresses and intelligent eyes, the blonde mindlessly booked another one for today. Besides, that would be the logical thing to do; she had decided to travel around the world to enjoy the last of her days. The disturbance the brunette caused shouldn’t matter that much because Fleur had no way to contact her-or a solid excuse- and no clues about her current location.

But, even though her logic and her mind had accepted that her life would be cut short, there was a traitorous part inside her soul that had started to hope. Her heart had started beating a little bit louder and faster and her spirit seemed to be more vibrant since yesterday. Fleur knew that she was probably the biggest fool in the history of fools for choosing to spend her last days trapped inside the thick walls of French bureaucracy, but if there was a chance to win the damn clock that had so far defined her life she would die trying.

Fleur snorted. _She probably would._

Fleur hoped that her chances of winning weren’t that bad.

Besides, Lady Luck always favored the bold ones.

.

The day finally replaced the night and Fleur quickly prepared for the day. She swiftly put on a her black pants and a white shirt and tied the laces of her black boots. The blonde grabbed her keys and got out of her apartment.

As the veela walked to her destination the crowds seemed to disperse. Her fierce expression and the glint in her eye made it clear to everyone; she was a girl on a mission. Like a hurricane she arrived at the French Ministry and headed straight to the elevator. She pressed the button of level 3 and waited restlessly for the tardy machine to reach her destination. She watched people come and go until she was left alone inside the claustrophobic construction. Her eyes traced over the wall were an infuriating brunette had lain the day before and her heart clenched momentarily.

When she finally arrived at the Department of Mysteries Fleur wandered around the familial hallways and easily found her way towards the office of her project chief. The blonde knocked the door and waited. The door magically opened and the veela barged inside with a confidence of a predator. 

Even the intimidating figure of Madame Alard couldn’t affect her confidence. The 40-year-old woman was tall, about 5 feet 11, black tresses framed her face contrasting with her intense green eyes. The woman watched the blonde with curious eyes and raised en eyebrow, silently asking the reason for the sudden invasion.

“The new project you told me about,” Fleur said as if that made her intentions clear.

“Yes?”

“I want it” the blonde declared.

The older woman’s expression became cold and skeptical. “Yesterday, you didn’t even give it a chance and now you want it?”

“Yes” she said decisively. The two women locked their gazes and engaged in an intense game of staring. Fleur stood her ground and never left the other woman’s eyes, refusing to submit.

“You left.” The black haired woman stated. “We don’t play games here Delacour. You can’t come and go whenever you wish. I could give it to more dedicated curse breakers.”

“I am the best” The veela declared confidently- it wasn’t arrogance if it was true.

The older woman nodded. “You are talented Delacour. You have what it takes to become one of the best in this department. I am giving you one more chance. One more chance Delacour, you hear me?”

Fleur nodded seriously.

“This is a crucial and complicated project, so you will have a partner.”

Fleur scrunched her nose in distaste. It was well known that she didn’t play well with others, but Alard had none of it. Alard handed over to her a yellow envelope. “This is all the information you will need. Inside you will find the address of your assigned partner.” The woman smirked.”You are lucky; your partner is a brilliant witch.”

Fleur accepted the envelope and realizing that she was dismissed, she swiftly left.

When the blonde returned home she opened the envelope and read the details of the case. Admittedly, it was a complex and difficult project; last year Morgana’s magical hospital had reported over 100 patients that suffered from abrupt vertigo, incessant trembling and extremely real hallucinations. When that pattern was completed the patients fell into a comatose state. Well, only five of the patients had reached the last phase of the “disease”, but it was alleged that this is going to be the ending of all the cases.

Despite the hospital’s best efforts the healers had reached an impasse and the French Ministry decided that the Department of Mysteries is best suited for this kind of situations, taking into account the complete lack of information. 

Fleur sighted. It was indeed a very interesting case, but she didn’t know if this is what she wanted to do till the end of her days. The only reason she returned to the Ministry was that she would be able to track the elusive brunette more easily. Granger must have visited the Ministry for a reason. It was rumored for a long time that the Ministry had recruited her, but Fleur had never seen her around before _the incident_.

Having a partner in this mess was never in her plans. The blonde shook her head and looked over the files wanting to know who her partner was. Mysteriously, the only information she had about her partner- Morgana the word sounded more and more awful- was an address.

_The faster this ends the better. Let’s find out who that mysterious witch is._

Fleur abruptly stood up, grabbed her keys, her files and her purse and for second time this day she found her way out of her apartment.

.

Admittedly, the address was hard to find. Even though her partner’s home (?) was located in a magical building it was covered with not-notice-me wards and disillusionment charms that affected not only the muggle but also the magical folks. In the end –a couple of hours later much to her frustration- an exasperated Fleur Delacour found an illuminated local who helped her track the building down.

Fleur already didn’t feel well for this partnership. She was annoyed by her cryptic counterpart and her even more cryptic hide-out. The veela climbed up the stairs and headed to the left. The blonde arrived before a huge brown door and after taking a minute to stabilize her breath she knocked.

Some moments passed and the door was opened. Fleur swallowed. She knew that Lady Luck favored the bold ones, but she didn’t expect her blessings to be that immediate. In front of her- in all her decadent glory- stood Hermione Jean Granger. Fleur took the younger girl in.

The brunette wore a Gryffindor oversized jumper that probably belonged previously to a male. The matching red-gold lousy shorts made Fleur presume that these were the girl’s pajamas.

Brown curls were all over her face; her hair was a living organism with a personality. Her tresses were oriented in every possible direction as if they wanted to make their own personal statement.

Her eyes were bright, but at the same time dark-Fleur couldn’t fathom how this was possible. The darkness in her eyes was so deep and torturous that the blonde felt the need to aver her eyes. The hazel orbs though, had a light sparkly fire in them too that made a small traitorous part of her to want to play with it. 

The unkempt image of an even more unkempt girl was completed by the specks of blank ink that marred her cheek and her forehead. Predictably, her hands were ink-stained too. On the top of that her eyebrows were furrowed and her nose scrunched in confusion.

The blonde would have found it cute if she was looking at literally anyone else, but the brunette made irritation flare inside her in such a way that she could overcome the somewhat endearing sight.

Fleur spoke up first. “I am Fleur Delacour. Apparently, your partner at the Morgana’s hospital case.”

Hermione’s lips tugged a little.”I know who you are- Madame Alard informed me of the partnership too. I am Hermione Granger; we were trapped together inside the elevator a yesterday.” The brunette offered the blonde her hand for a handshake.

The veela scrunched her nose regarding the ink-stained hand in distaste. Typically, she would have taken the hand as politeness dictated, but this girl seemed to get the worst out of her. As a result, she merely raised an eyebrow. Despite, everything though, the blonde was quite softened by the girl’s humility who thought the only way the she would know her- _the famous, brilliant war veteran_ \- was their little adventure inside the elevator.

The brunette seemed to realize that Fleur had no intention in taking her hand. The girl must have thought that the ink stains prevented Fleur from shaking her hand and wiped it mindlessly at her shorts as she moved over, inviting the blonde in.

_This girl was a mess_

Fleur stepped in the house and took in her surroundings. The Hogwarts and Gryffindor banners hang neatly in the walls along with hundreds of moving pictures that had been diligently put there. It was the only thing that was diligent and neat.

The rest of the house seemed like it have been hit by a bomb, or like herds of hippogriffs have passed inside of it. There were books scattered around the floor, on the carpet on the table in the sofa. Literally everywhere. Wherever she looked she saw stacks of books and piles of papers. The corner of the living room was the only place in the house that wasn’t covered by books or pieces of papers. That was because it was covered by muggle vinyls and discs towering over a vintage turntable and a stereophonic system.

Fleur’s gaze returned to the brunette who seemed completely at ease with the situation.

“Well, I was completely unprepared for visitors, but I could use some help. I think that I have reached an impasse” she murmured, seeming unfazed by her sudden visit. The girl was ready for business.

Fleur craved to look at her hand but such an abrupt movement would be too suspicious. The blonde decided that she would wait until the brunette’s attention was somewhere else. The veela was proud by her self-restrain because the spot where her timer was situated was right now on fire. Fleur didn’t know if the feeling was an extract of her anticipation and curiosity or a result of her magical instability.

Coming back to reality, the blonde processed what Granger just said and realized that the brunette had already started working in the case. The blonde raised an eyebrow questioningly. “I thought that the Department of Mysteries had only yesterday become aware of the crisis in Morgana’s Hospital.”

The brunette hummed.”Yes, this was the reason I was at the Ministry yesterday. It is an extremely peculiar case. I went over the information in the files and literally nothing made sense”. The Gryffindor motioned the blonde to follow her towards the messy table where her notes were lain.

Blue eyes traced over the, surprisingly, neat notes where she found an explicit summary of all the crucial points.

”It is not a magical disease, even though the symptoms indicate otherwise.” Fleur voiced the conclusion οf her own research.

“No, it is not, otherwise the healers would have found the attacking germs.”

It was an obvious deduction, one that the Ministry didn’t seem to accept. However after months of procrastination and denial (and four patients becoming vegetables), they decided to enlist their Department’s help.

“Tomorrow we should visit Morgana’s hospital to examine the patients on our own.”

Fleur nodded seriously. “Yes, that would be the best course of action. Meanwhile, we go over the information the hospital gave us about the patients.”

The brunette nodded absently, her mind already calculating the possibilities. Fleur exploited the brunette’s distraction and chanced to look at her farm. Fleur only got a glimpse of her timer ,but it was enough. _Sixty years. Sixty fucking years._

Fleur gulped. She was positively panicking. Her hands trembled and her heart was beating furiously. She needed air.

“Now that we agreed on a common strategy I think it is my cue to leave.” Fleur stuttered.

Hermione’s eyes snapped at her. Her soft hazel eyes watched worriedly the blonde. She grasped gently her wrist and if Fleur wasn’t a moment before having a panic attack she would have noticed that the brunette’s fingers were light as feathers. (no one touched her like this anymore) 

“Are you okay?”

Fleur yanked her hand away as if burned and pushed the brunette. “I am fine, I just remembered that I had a previous engagement and I need to go.”

The blonde practically ran out the door and Merlin knows how in her confused state she managed to say “Tomorrow at 8 at the Department of Mysteries.”

**Author's Note:**

> Helloooo! This is more of a fun project. I saw recently a movie, inspiration struck and I just needed to write this.   
> I hope you like the second chapter. In the future I am planning to post longer chapters, but for now I need to introduce the characters to each other (and think how their future interactions are going to be)   
> I am always happy to here you input people!!  
> Enjoy!


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